


when the world was ours

by perennials



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 16:36:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10880733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perennials/pseuds/perennials
Summary: “You know, if you watch the sunset from this hill for fifty-one days in a row, your love will be reciprocated,” Viktor says suddenly, his voice ringing out bright and clear.Yuuri gives him a wry smile. “Who is it this time?”“It’s a secret.”-At sixteen, it seems everyone has secrets. Yuuri wanting to kiss Viktor every time he so much as blinks is one. The matter of Viktor's new love interest is another. As to whether or not the dumb old hill will grant Viktor's wish, well, they'll just have to wait to find out.





	when the world was ours

**Author's Note:**

> to clarify some characterization stuff:  
> yuuri and viktor are childhood friends here, and relatively normal teenagers. so the power balance and admiration thing yuuri has going for viktor is a lot more subtle. he's also snarkier, for reasons
> 
> inspired by "childhood blues" by gumi, a cheesy ass vocaloid song. i've been on a romcom roll lately.

“Come on,” Viktor calls from a little ways ahead. “I'm gonna leave you behind if you don't hurry up!”

 

Yuuri’s heavy footsteps grind to a stop and he scowls. “ _I’m_ not the one who decided I wanted to climb the old hill after class.”

 

Viktor pauses, turning to face his friend properly. In the gently-simmering embers of evening, back-lit by the sun, his silhouette is limned in rose gold and powder-pink like a fairytale. A faint breeze whistles by and blows his bangs out of his face; he reaches up to tuck a few stray strands behind his ear, and smiles bashfully at Yuuri.

 

“Undeniably true. But you'll accompany me anyway, won't you?”

 

“Um,” Yuuri says, and ascends another step. “No.” His ears go a little red. “...Fine, just. Just wait for me, will you?”

 

Viktor’s expression turns triumphant. “Anything for you, Yuuri.”

 

Yuuri wants to punch him. He's going to punch him. He just has to make it up there in one piece first.

 

//

 

The old town hill can be reached via two pathways. There's the climber's route, with a nice, steep little staircase running from the bottom of the hill to the very top, and then there's the Hardcore Climber's Route, which is basically a wilderness trail that winds through the heavily-forested area surrounding it. It's not a very steep hill to begin with, so most don't really have a problem with either option, though the wilderness trail has been rumored to house a few types of mosquitoes which are particularly nasty.

 

It used to be the site for various important functions, in fact, such as purification ceremonies ("Purifying _what_?" Viktor would ask in class with moon-round eyes. "Your soul," would come Yakov's curt reply, every single time.), proposals, and more recently, informal cardboard races down the kinder side of the hill. Eventually the townsfolk gave up on saving their souls and proposals were moved to more apt places with better amenities and photo opportunities, but the children remained with their makeshift cardboard sleds.

 

There's a little pavilion, too, with milk-white pillars and a dome engraved with roses. It smells like warm summer afternoons and sweet strawberry syrup, dirt-smudged faces and sunshine laughter.

 

But nostalgia can wait. Yuuri makes a strangled sound when he sees it, and makes a dive for the wooden bench underneath. Viktor follows, sitting down beside him and dumping his backpack on the grass by their feet.

 

“Couldn't you have asked Chris to come up with you? Or, I dunno, Mila, or JJ, or someone?” Yuuri groans with his head thrown back and his face tilted up to the pavilion ceiling. It's hot, the air’s sticky, and he's kind of hungry. Everything sucks.

 

Viktor pouts. “I couldn't trust anyone else with this.”

 

“And what exactly is ‘this’?”

 

“It's, well.” Almost nervously (Yuuri dismisses this possibility immediately because the word nervous does not exist in Viktor’s vocabulary), Viktor starts fiddling with his hair. “You'll find out.”

 

 _Is that so_ , Yuuri muses, but doesn't say aloud. It's uncharacteristic of Viktor to be anything but gleaming with confidence— Yuuri’s not going to press him for details now, not like this.

 

After that, they lapse into a comfortable silence. The circumference of the hot, hazy sun dips closer and closer to the city skyline until it’s kissing the rooftops of the tallest buildings. Around them, the world begins to coruscate like the insides of a fiery kaleidoscope.

 

“You know, if you watch the sunset from this hill for fifty-one days in a row, your love will be reciprocated,” Viktor says suddenly, his voice ringing out bright and clear.

 

Yuuri can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him like soda-fizz. “I didn’t take you for a superstitious kind of guy,” he remarks.

 

Viktor crosses his arms defensively. “Don’t laugh at me. I’m serious.”

 

 _Huh_ , Yuuri thinks. _That’s rare._ He gives him a wry smile. “All right, all right. Who is it this time?”

 

“It's a secret."

 

"...Okay."

 

Far beneath their faded, sneakered feet, the city begins to glow, storefront signs and street lamps flickering to life as the sun wastes away above them. The family mart on Denver Avenue, the hairdresser’s behind the park, the gaudy nightclub on the edge of town with its plethora of cheap neon sign boards— all breathing, all living.

 

“Still.” Yuuri studies the wound on his left index finger. It's a shallow cut and mostly scabbed over now, the surrounding skin only barely tinged pink. “Fifty-one days is a long time, even for you.”

 

Viktor sighs dramatically. “And falling in love is a much longer process. I’m sure it’ll be worth it.”

 

“Worth dragging my busy ass up here fifty-one times too?”

 

Viktor punches Yuuri playfully in the shoulder. If his hand lingers on the shirtsleeve of his uniform for a second too long, Yuuri doesn't notice.

 

“Come on, you don’t hate me that much.”

 

Yuuri mumbles something like _I don’t hate you at all, actually, rather I_ _quite…_ under his breath. He's half a mind to protest now, but what's the point? He rarely, if ever, says no to Viktor— Viktor knows this as well as he does.

 

And it's always been like this, really, Viktor the hot-air balloon drifting towards outer space, and Yuuri the kid with the ten mile-long kite-string, chasing after this distant daydream and trying his damnedest to reel him back in. The skies are no match for Viktor Nikiforov, but even a miracle would not survive among the stars. It's a fact.

 

That's why Yuuri is here, a constant where Viktor is the ever-changing independent variable. Yuuri reminds him not to get too close to the sun, and is there to punch him in the face when he forgets and tries to do it anyway. He's the sword and the shield and the four a.m. impromptu chauffeur, the extra umbrella on a rainy day.

 

Still. Fifty-one.

 

“What do I get out of this?” Yuuri asks as Viktor leans forward and snags his backpack. He produces a bag of chips, which he rips open and offers to Yuuri.

 

“Friendship.” Viktor grins back at him, lopsided and childish. But his eyes betray something softer; affection, maybe, and a quieter sort of truth underneath. They're beautiful eyes. Yuuri’s almost offended.

 

He sighs. “Fine.”

 

Viktor beams, irises burning deep violet for a split-second before the sun vanishes completely beneath the horizon and everything turns bruised-blue and purple.

 

“One day down, fifty to go.”

 

Yuuri’s already rising to his feet and slinging his back over one shoulder. He sticks a hand out in Viktor’s direction.

 

“Good luck,” Yuuri says, and means it, mostly. It’s always ‘mostly’ with him. Truths are hard to come by, for a multitude of reasons that neither Viktor nor anyone else is privy to. See, Yuuri’s a complicated boy, for sixteen-going-on-seventeen. Viktor can’t even begin to fathom it.

 

"Thanks."

 

Viktor takes his hand without thinking twice.

**Author's Note:**

> guess who just returned from a 2-week long social media hiatus. i'm dead. okay let's see  
> i genuinely have no idea where this is going to go in terms of plot detail but go give gumi's song a listen. it's great. cute art, too.  
> never written a multi-chapter fic before so i hope i don't bail on this one before chapter two lol. if you like what you see so far, maybe leave a kudo or a comment or something. i dunno. it's up to you  
> i'm pretty free from now until july so yeah hopefully i'll get the next chapter out soon. it's gonna be about katsuki yuuri and feelings and the childhood aspect of the whole childhood friends thing. please look forward to it
> 
> have a good one


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